


Scavengers & Lovers

by cabeswaterss



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, NewKid!Adam, Noah's not in this because I said so, Ronan is kind of oblivious, Soulmate AU, Strangers to Lovers, dream-things scavenger hunt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23545777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabeswaterss/pseuds/cabeswaterss
Summary: While Richard Campbell Gansey III is searching for an ancient, sleeping Welsh king with the power to grant his waker with a wish, Ronan Lynch is searching for his soulmate. Well, he doesn’t know that that’s who he’s searching for. All he knows is that he keeps pulling objects out of his dreams that have nothing to do with him––like a fucking mystical scavenger hunt––and he doesn’t know why. All he can do is try to track down this “Magician” that Cabeswater is pointing him towards. At the same time, Ronan is intrigued by the new kid at Aglionby Academy, Adam Parrish.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was for a class, but I might continue it (past 4 chapters) at some point. shoutout to my beta reader Sam.

The first object was plausible enough.

As someone who was raised Catholic––and therefore, was Catholic for life––Ronan was no stranger to the scriptures of the Holy Bible. So when strips of paper scrawled with each line of _Genesis 1_ and _2_ littered his pillow one Monday morning, it wasn’t necessarily the weirdest thing to have happened to him.

_“And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.”_

The odd part, he thought, was that yesterday’s homily hadn’t been the creation story.

Perhaps it was just a reminder that Chainsaw was a couple months old now. She had been just a chick when he had pulled her from his dreams, but now glossier black feathers were replacing the downy fluff, and her voice was growing stronger. He was very aware of that second fact actually, since the raven’s throaty croak was acting like an alarm clock currently, letting Ronan know it was time to feed his wildlife before going to the zoo that was Aglionby Academy.

Instead, Ronan rolled over again, groaning. The slips of paper crinkled against his face. _“And whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof.”_

Then Gansey called from downstairs, “Ronan, can you please silence your aviary? And get up, we have school!”

***

School, as always, was a bore. All of the teachers spoke in a droning voice, and besides, Ronan found most of them to be stupid. All of the students were oblivious kids without a brain cell between them (and they weren’t even attractive enough to make up for it). Plus, everything about Aglionby’s prep-boy uniform was constraining. By second period Ronan had shucked his jacket, untucked his shirt, and loosened his tie enough that he could easily slip it on and off at will. He mostly did this to mess with Gansey though, who got nervous that Ronan would be called out any time a professor walked by.

“Ease up, Dick,” Ronan said, “It’s free period.” He sat backwards in his own chair with his feet propped up on Gansey’s desk in the Latin classroom. “Stop bitching and tell me more about your king.”

Ronan didn’t really understand how Gansey could be so obsessed with finding just one person, one who might not even exist, but Dick was his best friend, so he went along with it. Gansey pinched his nose right below his eyebrows, temporarily dislodging his glasses in the process. “I studied so many topography maps last night that I’m still seeing wavy lines in my vision. It just doesn’t make any sense.” He sighed.

“Maybe the maggot or her family can help us,” Ronan suggested as he leaned back, arching to watch––upside down––as students began to enter the classroom.

“I _told_ you to stop referring to Jane in such a manner.” Gansey’s pen twitched in his hand.

Ronan was about to bite back in retort when someone new crossed the room’s threshold. Someone different. Ronan righted himself in the chair, but still didn’t turn around. Something in his face made Gansey open his mouth to speak, but the teacher walked in at that moment and beat him to it.

“Mr. Lynch, put your feet on the floor and sit correctly, please,” Mr. Whelk implored, exasperated at the daily offense. Leisurely, like a snake unfurling, Ronan did as commanded––mainly so that he could use the slow rotation to scan the seats for the newcomer.

He spotted him in the desk next to the window, lean frame backlit by September light just as Mr. Whelk announced, “Class, I want to welcome our newest Aglionby student, Adam Parrish.”

Whelk began going over the Latin verb tenses (again), but Ronan continued to stare at Parrish’s elegant profile. As if sensing Ronan’s eyes on him, the new boy cast a glance over his shoulder. Ronan swiftly looked away, making a note to be more subtle and sparing with his staring next time. Still, he snuck glimpses throughout the hour-long lecture. In any case, it was much more entertaining than listening to Whelk explain things he already knew.

***

The second object came a few nights later.

In his dream, the sky was gray and tumultuous; the clouds that could be seen through the canopy roiled. Then, consuming Ronan’s thoughts were the trees. They were insistent, saying over and over: _Veni, Greywaren. Veni, Greywaren_. It felt like even the wind was funneling him forward, but toward where, he wasn’t sure. He continued walking, disoriented, until he nearly stumbled over a stump in the middle of his path. Spread out in a spiral that mimicked the rings of the tree stump was a Tarot deck, the cards splayed facedown. _Eligere, eligere, eligere_ , the trees urged.

Kneeling, Ronan felt the thunder rumble in his chest as he reached out, hovering his hand over the cards as he had seen Maura Sargent do. _Is it supposed to feel hot, or what?_ Ronan thought to himself, almost wishing he’d paid more attention to the mystical ramblings of Blue or Calla. Often in these dreams, Ronan had the sensation that he was brushing elbows with fate––usually his own, in the form of fatal nightmares––but none had been so _loud_ as this one was. In the end, he decided to go with his gut, using his middle finger to slide a card near the edges out from the pattern.

As he did so, the sky broke open, punctuated by a clap of thunder, and began to pour down rain. _Not very subtle, Cabeswater_ , Ronan mused as water soaked his skin. The card was warm in his hands as he pulled it, and himself, out of the dream.

He jolted awake, shivering, with the Tarot card in his hand. Unfortunately, he’d also brought the rain with him, his shirt now soggy and plastered to his chest. After he had changed into dry clothes, he picked up the card again and studied it. Along the bottom, it said “The Magician.” Even though Ronan didn’t have much knowledge about Tarot, he had seen enough of the 300 Fox Way women’s decks to tell that this card was a Cabeswater original. Instead of a person, the image had a faceless figure, his body made of white-hot light, with the suit symbols––a golden pentacle, a wand, a cup, and a sword––floating around him. Ronan flipped the card over to see an intricate design of knotted branches and gilded lines.

“Well, this definitely isn’t _your_ card,” Blue declared when he presented it to her the next day at Nino’s. Ronan was sitting on a stool at the bar of the pizza place where Blue waitressed, and Blue was on the other side with an apron tied around her middle.

“Why does it feel like I should be offended by that?” Ronan grumbled. They both hunched, conspiratorial, over the countertop––though for Blue, this position was necessitated by her short stature. She had brought over a chair from the kitchen whose seat was almost level with the table, so now she had to fold her body in half in the chair to examine the card on the linoleum. For Ronan, it was more of a personality choice. “Can’t you just tell me what it means?”

“Fine, fine.” Blue replied, picking up the card with her thumb and forefinger. “When did you even get a Tarot card deck anyway? I just meant that Calla has told me which card is yours, and it’s not this one.”

“Which card am I?”

Blue smiled smugly, reveling in the fact that _Ronan Lynch_ was asking for her advice for a moment. She ignored his question, saying instead, “Your card might come up frequently in readings other people do for you, but this was like a reading you did for yourself right?” She waited for him to give a grudging nod. “So this card is about someone _else_.”

“Okay.” Ronan sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.

After a beat, Blue continued, “The Magician is someone who is resourceful and able to manifest the abstract into the material due to their connection to both the spiritual and earthly realms.” She pointed to the small infinity symbol over the figure’s head. “This symbolizes unlimited potential, y’know, like someone who can do anything.”

_Sounds like me to me_ , Ronan thought, imagining all of the dream-things in his room in Monmouth right now, including a living breathing bird. But still, Ronan had to admit that the dream itself had not necessarily felt like it was about him. _Veni. Eligere_. Cabeswater was trying to lead him somewhere. Or to someone, he guessed.

Outwardly, Ronan just made a noncommittal noise.

“‘Oh, _thank you_ , Blue,’” Blue drawled sarcastically, hopping off the chair. “‘I really appreciate you using your working hours to help me with my personal shit.’ Why, you’re welcome, Ronan, I love performing unpaid labor.” As she caught sight of his contemplative expression, though, her face softened, and she added, “If you need anything else, let me know.”

Blue turned away to tend to one of her tables of customers, leaving Ronan staring at The Magician on the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan gets dreamer's block

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short but sweet. again, thanks to my beta reader Sam for the suggestions!

Ronan considered not going to school on Friday. It wasn’t abnormal for him to skip, much to Gansey’s chagrin. In the end, though, his curiosity overpowered him, and he went. He wanted to know who Cabeswater wanted him to find. Was it someone who could help find Glendower? Or did they have something to do with his father’s secretive past? Whoever it was, it seemed to Ronan that they would have answers.

Granted, the odds that these magical answers or their holder could be found in the halls of Aglionby Academy were slim. It’s not like he had many other ideas about where to look, however. At least this way he was out of Monmouth. And maybe he’d even seen the cute boy from Latin again.

So far, though, it’d been just another long, boring day at Aglionby. The bell clanged over his head as he headed, tardy, to his sixth period. It was mathematics, so he made sure to walk as slowly as possible. He was already late. Other people, however, did not have the same mentality––someone running at full speed crashed into Ronan’s shoulder, causing him to collide with the lockers to his right, and sending the other person to the floor. Ronan thought he recognized that ash-brown hair...

“I’m sorry, I should have been watching where I was going,” Adam said curtly, glancing up at Ronan as he recollected the books and papers that had been scattered. Well, as curtly as one could say anything with the long, Southern drawl Adam had. Slight, but perceptible. Ronan took note.

Ronan froze, dazed and silent. By the time he recuperated his ability for forward motion, Adam had finished gathering his things and had stood up. They were about the same height, Ronan realized, as he was met straight-on with a very blue gaze. 

Adam nodded, and hurried down the hallway. Ronan blinked, and he was already gone, like an apparition.

Then the _extra_ tardy bell rang, snapping Ronan back to reality. _Shit,_ he thought _, Dick’s going to kill me_. They had sixth together. _Fuck it_. Ronan turned on his heel and walked out of Aglionby.

***

Ronan’s weekend passed dreamlessly––a rare occasion. It was kind of annoying, actually, because he _wanted_ to dream. He wanted more clues.

In part because, if the person was related to Glendower, it might get Dick off his dick. Ronan knew that the lack of leads in the past few weeks had Gansey on edge, going sleepless almost every night and showing up to Aglionby disheveled. Well, Gansey’s version of disheveled, which meant his hair was a bit mussed and sometimes his socks didn’t match. It also meant he was on Ronan’s case about skipping school even more than usual. After Friday’s walk-out, Gansey had chewed him out and, as a “cold shoulder,” ordered pizza delivery from Nino’s just for himself. An absolutely brutal rebuff in Gansey-speak.

Then there was the less-likely prospect that the clues weren’t about Glendower…Ronan didn’t dare think about what that would mean, about _who_ that could mean. But he did _want_.

Cabeswater’s practice of abiding by his wishes, though, was not a given. Sure, it would give him whatever he wanted, but that was once he was in the dream. Whether or not he dreamed? That was up to the universe, apparently. Or maybe it was because of his shitty sleeping schedule that, more often than not, resembled Gansey’s. The pile of paper shavings and The Magician sat, expectant, on his dresser.

In any case, as of Tuesday afternoon, Ronan still had not dreamed. He was not very happy about this fact, which was why he was currently blasting EDM music out of his BMW on the drive from school. To make matters worse, Whelk had threatened him with detention in front of the whole class because he had written a Latin expletive on their in-class assignment instead of actually doing the assignment. In the presence of a certain boy. And in front of Gansey, who managed to talk Whelk down, but whose eye was visibly twitching for the rest of the period. Ronan had sprinted out of seventh as soon as possible so as to avoid Gansey’s glowering for another half-hour at least. Or longer, if he just kept driving.

The BMW had other ideas, however.

He was about fifteen minutes out from Aglionby (and a greater distance from Monmouth since he was driving in another direction) when the car broke down. Ronan managed to roll it to the side of the road, although it sputtered in protest.

 _Of fucking course_ , Ronan groaned internally. Outwardly, he dragged himself out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and wrenched open the hood. The inside was hot, but nothing in particular was smoking or clanging or leaking. Ronan did not know cars. Dick, with the Pig, kind of knew cars, but there was no way in hell that Ronan was calling him. The only thing worse than getting a lecture from Gansey about near-detention was getting a lecture from Gansey about detention _and_ car maintenance while being trapped with him in the Pig, going just below the speed limit.

Sighing, Ronan decided to lay on the grass next to the BMW. He didn’t even know the number for a tow truck. Gansey might know, but it was decided, no calls to Gansey. Ronan closed his eyes; maybe _now_ , in the middle of the day, he would be able to dream.

He wasn’t quite sure how long he had been laying there, by the side of the road. He had begun to doze, drifting in and out of consciousness, when a shadow fell across him and someone spoke.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Ronan opened his eyes to see, what he could only assume to be, a godsend: Adam Parrish. He was holding a beat-up bike and staring down at him. The sleeves of his dress-shirt had been rolled up to the elbows, exposing tanned, freckled skin.

“Um, yeah, I’m good,” Ronan said, sitting up. “Car just broke down.”

Adam’s brow furrowed. “Have you called a tow truck?”

“Phone’s dead.” Ronan shrugged.

Instead of pulling out his own phone like Ronan thought he might, Adam set his bike down on the grass and walked over to the still-exposed innards of the BMW.

“Parrish?” Ronan asked, meaning _What are you doing?_

“I work at Boyd’s,” Adam replied, rolling up his sleeves further as he leaned over to tinker with something towards the back. “I know cars.”

“That’s useful.” Adam didn’t say anything.

Ronan, not knowing what else to do, got up and walked over to the car. He leaned against the front tire and just watched Adam’s hands work, reassembling and fixing something that was broken. Even though Ronan could pull creations out of dreams––knew how they felt, the weight of them in his hands––he did not yet always know how they worked on the inside. That was a kind of magic to him, knowing something so well from the inside out that you could put it back together again.

Even though Ronan wasn’t actively helping, Adam didn’t appear to be annoyed, only focused. After about ten minutes, he straightened, looking satisfied. “That should do it.”

Ronan peered into the hood, trying to see what was different, but everything looked exactly the same as it had been before to him. “Could you tell me what you did?”

Adam’s mouth twitched downward, but he began to explain. Ronan did not understand most of it, but he thought that maybe if he remembered some words for later, he could at least ask Gansey about it. He kind of cared about the answer––he did spend a lot of time around cars, after all––but he’d mostly asked just to hear Adam speak. The words were not so much words as they were syllables that entered Ronan’s ears individually. As Adam spoke, Ronan opened the drivers-side door and reached into the glove compartment, retrieving a spare tank top. He held it out to Adam––who had grease on his hands––stilling his words.

“Thanks.” Adam took the fabric from Ronan and cleaned his hands with it. When he tried to give it back, Ronan insisted, “Keep it.”

There was silence. Ronan watched Adam. Adam looked at the ground, at the sleek, shark-nosed car, and then at Ronan. Then he nodded, seemingly to himself, and turned to pick up his bike. Meanwhile, Ronan opened the door of the BMW.

As Adam prepared to mount his bike, Ronan said, “Thank you.”

Adam glanced behind him, nodded, and biked away. Ronan got into the car, did a U-turn, and headed back to Monmouth. The windows were down, but no music was playing.

The next day, Ronan woke up with his hands covered in motor grease.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> searches, insomnia, dreams

At the end of the week, Saturday afternoon, Gansey had decided that they were going to drive the mountain roads surrounding Henrietta in the Pig while he measured electromagnetic fields or whatever with his whatchamacallit device. Gansey said it could detect “lines”; Ronan wasn’t interested in geometry, but figured Gansey knew what he was talking about. He just wished Gansey would let him drive.

“We don’t need to be driving off any cliffs because you think this is _Ford vs. Ferrari_ , Ronan,” Gansey had said.

“You know I don’t know what that means,” Ronan had huffed in reply. “And I’m a great driver, by the way––thank you very much.”

If Gansey wasn’t so Gansey, he would’ve rolled his eyes. Instead, he adjusted his glasses and stated, “I’m driving,” as he opened the door of the Pig. Ronan rolled his eyes. “And we’re going to pick up Jane.”

Blue was at the gate waiting for them when they pulled up to 300 Fox Way. She was wearing an overcoat––that was also somehow a turtleneck––and a frown. She stomped up to the Pig, yanked open the door, and threw herself into the back seat. At Gansey and Ronan’s inquiring gazes she simply crossed her arms over her chest and said, “Orla’s been on the phone all fucking day.”

“Aren’t you warm in that thing?” Ronan asked. It was almost 70 degrees outside. Blue sent him a glare that lowered the temperature in the Camaro by at least 10 degrees.

Ronan shook his head, backing off. He really didn’t understand girls.

“Everybody ready for an adventure?” Gansey chimed in cheesily, giving two thumbs-up. Ronan _and_ Blue rolled their eyes at him––and they were off.

The fluorescent-orange Pig was a beacon as it zipped back and forth across the mountainous landscape. Every 30 minutes or so, Gansey would stop the car, hopping out and pacing back and forth with his thingymajig held close to the ground. Then, shaking his head, he would climb back into the car and they would drive several more miles. The worst part, to Ronan, was the fact that Gansey wouldn’t let him play music.

“I have to be able to hear the machine, Ronan.” Gansey tilted his head towards the gatchet perched on the dashboard without taking his eyes off the road. Intermittently, the machine would beep––the more frequently it bepped, the closer they were to a ley line.

“Well, this track could use a remix,” Ronan grumbled. Blue snorted.

As Gansey made his next stop on his Road to Glendower, Blue leaned forward, putting her elbow on the center console and resting her chin in her hand. Ronan could feel her stare on the side of his face.

Ronan quirked an eyebrow, turning to look at her. “What do you want, maggot?”

“Have you found your _Magician_ yet?”

“Fuck off.”

“C’mon, don’t pretend like you’re not curious. Oh! Maybe it’s Tad Carruthers!”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Ronan deadpanned at the mention of his obnoxious Aglionby peer. “If that’s true, maybe the card means he’s my next hit.”

“One can only hope…” Blue looked out the windshield at Gansey, who was currently peering up at the sky for some reason. “Or maybe not, maybe it’s something right in front of you, right under your nose.”

Then her gaze slid back to Ronan. “I’m serious, though, y’know. As a psychic’s daughter, I’m familiar with this prophecy shit.”

Ronan frowned. “Nobody said it was a prophecy.”

“Either way. Spill, Lynch. What’ve you got?”

“ _Nothing_.” Ronan’s leg bounced up and down. “No more cards.” Just Bible verses and motor oil.

“Any _ideas_ , though?” Blue narrowed her eyes at him. “About who it is?”

“Your mom.”

“ _Lynch––”_

Blue was interrupted by the sound of Gansey reentering the Pig, which was with a loud, theatrical sigh and a slammed car-door. They turned to look at him.

“This isn’t working.” Gansey rubbed his face with his hands. “All the readings are too similar. I can’t tell where the lines are _going_. I think they’re leading one way, so I go in that direction, and then the frequency dies. I try another direction, and the readings go up and down too much to get my bearings.” He pinched the spot between his eyebrows. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

Blue put her hand on Gansey’s arm. He lifted his head, and they shared a look.

“Let’s head back,” Blue said, gentle but firm. “We should order pizza.”

***

Suffice to say, Gansey and Ronan were both pretty mopey for the rest of the weekend. Gansey because he wasn’t any closer to finding Glendower, and Ronan because he still didn’t know who the mystery person of his dreams was. When Blue had asked him if he had any ideas about who it could be, someone did come to mind...but Ronan didn’t want to get his hopes up. Since when had the universe ever given him something nice? Well, besides Gansey.

Gansey’s status as a blessing, however, was debatable at the moment––as he was currently performing extensive construction on his miniature Henrietta. While much quieter than actual builders, the sight of all of the tiny parts and the pungent smell of superglue gave Ronan a headache.

Usually, Ronan’s insomnia overlapped with Gansey’s, but this time, while Gansey’s obsessive mind kept him awake, Ronan’s pushed him towards sleep. Dreaming was the only way he might receive another clue. So while Gansey drank cup after cup of tea and built his kingdom downstairs, Ronan laid upstairs in bed, willing himself to sleep.

 _What are calming thoughts to think?_ Such thoughts only put him further from unconsciousness. Chainsaw clinked around in her cage––it almost reminded Ronan of the windchimes that would harmonize outside his bedroom at the Barns. _The Barns_. The sound of cicadas in the dark. The air cooling after a hot and humid day. The occasional lowing of cows, faint from the stables across the pasture. The soft sounds of a house full of dream-things… Sleep took him quickly then.

When he opened his eyes again, it was inside the dream. Under him was grass instead of bedsheets, and above him was a dark canopy of trees and a night sky filled with stars. For some reason, his clothes had also changed. He was wearing his Aglionby uniform. _Didn’t know this was a nightmare_ , he thought. Was it not enough that he had to wear that godawful thing from 8 to 3, Monday through Friday?

Ronan sat up, crossing his legs. “ _Quis tibi vis invenire?” (Who do you want me to find?)_

 _Magus. Prophetes._ The trees whispered, rustling.

“But I _know_ that already,” Ronan asserted. “Don’t you remember? The Tarot card?”

He stood up then, looking upward. “Tell me something else. Please.”

_Magus. Prophetes. Magus. Prophetes._

“Wait, ‘ _prophetes’?_ ” Ronan wracked his brain for the translation. “Prophet? Or prophecy?”

The wind picked up, whipping the branches and the grass. Ronan felt like it was trying to lift him from the ground. Fallen leaves spiraled towards the moon, which was just a sliver in the sky. _Sunt duo deorum_ , said the trees.

“’There are two gods’? What the fuck does that mean?” Ronan yelled, nearly drowned out by the wind.

The gust grew even stronger then, creating an upward cyclone. The tie of Ronan’s uniform lashed against his face and neck as the air tried to tug him off the ground. The voices of the trees, too, became louder and louder. It was as if Ronan was in the center of a storm. _Magus. Prophetes. Sunt duo deorum._

Suddenly, everything stopped––the wind, the trees, all of it––and Ronan was falling, through the ground and the dream.

Ronan startled awake, his body jerking against the mattress, still feeling the residual sensation of falling. For several moments, Ronan just laid on his back, letting his rapid heartbeat slow. His pulse was a rushing, slowing tide against his skin that filled his ears. Once he had calmed himself down, he looked over to the clock on his dresser: 7:23AM. Almost time for school. Against the pull of gravity, Ronan hauled himself into a seated position. As he did so, he felt something touching his chest; he looked down to see he was still wearing the tie from the dream, the knot loosened by the wind so it hung loose around his neck. It seemed Cabeswater wanted him to go to school.

So he had been right––Aglionby was where he would find the Magician. How unfortunate.

Letting out a resigned sigh, Ronan rolled out of bed and began to get ready for school. He took off t-shirt he had been sleeping in (but not the tie) and pulled pants on over his boxers. Soon, he was wearing the same outfit he had been wearing in the dream. Running a palm over his face, Ronan looked into the mirror and saw a pale, tried face staring back at him. The dream tie––a long, trailing _y_ ––was still loose around his neck, the silky navy and maroon material catching the morning light.

He pulled the loop of fabric over his head, taking it off. It felt weird wearing one of his dream-things to school. It wasn’t that he thought the Aglionby professors could tell the difference (his replica was indistinguishable), but that he worried the Magician could. Ronan still didn’t know if this person were friend or foe, and for all he knew, they could be psychic––or even psychometric like Calla. While Ronan was not opposed to duking it out in the school halls, and while Gansey certainly didn’t make it a secret that he was looking for Glendower, maybe it wouldn’t be the best idea to walk around with a dreamt-up target around his neck. The Magician could still very well have to do with his father, after all. The only thing Ronan was certain of was that Aglionby was the place he had to be this Monday morning. _Great_.

After messily knotting a different, normal tie around his throat, Ronan stuffed the dream tie into his backpack and went downstairs to find Gansey drinking his twentieth cup of tea that day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam meets the rest of the gang

That same day, once they were at school, Ronan and Gansey found themselves––as usual––in the Latin classroom during the free period before Whelk’s class began. So far, Ronan hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Ronan was laying on top of the desks, his lanky body spanning across three tabletops and his head resting on the desk closest to Gansey’s. He liked to switch it up, keep things fresh. Meanwhile, Gansey was talking about the new method he’d devised last night for locating Glendower’s hiding place. Ronan watched Gansey’s hands gesture wildly above his head as he spoke, the movements casting shadows on Ronan’s face.

“I was thinking about the patterns of the frequencies from Saturday,” Gansey gushed, his finger tracing peaks up-and-down in the air. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before––What if the ley lines aren’t straight? What if some of them are curved? Maybe even circular?” His pointer finger drew circles above Ronan’s face now. “The reason the readings seemed so weird was because we were going in relatively straight lines, which caused us to cross multiple lines.”

Ronan’s brow furrowed. “Do ley lines even do that? I thought all the maps you’ve been squinting at have had straight lines.”

“I don’t know,” Gansey shrugged, “but who’s to say that lines don’t change? Maybe Glendower being there disrupted the flow of the lines. Maybe Glendower is the epicenter now.”

Ronan huffed. “Bullseye? That seems too easy.”

“Maybe, but we might as well try.” Gansey’s chest puffed out. “I was thinking that––“

The loud squeak of the classroom’s door opening halted Gansey’s sentence. Both boys looked up to see who had come in; it was Adam.

Adam hurriedly shut the door behind him and leaned back against it, letting out his breath––not yet noticing he wasn’t alone. To Ronan’s surprise, the other boy looked delightfully disheveled. His dust-brown hair was rumpled on one side, the neck of his sweater was askew, and his tie was missing. Ronan said nothing, instead staring at the way that Adam’s eyelashes swept shadows on his high cheekbones and the elegance of his neck, until Gansey spoke:

“Hello, Parrish, right?” Adam’s eyes popped open, and his head snapped in their direction.

“Um.” Adam cleared his throat, making his Adam’s apple bob. “Yeah.”

“Is everything okay?” Gansey was up now, standing next to the desk, one hand trailing its surface.

“Yeah, yeah,” Adam said quickly, almost to himself. Then, he looked hesitant, gaze flicking between the other two boys in front of him––one posed regally beside the still mostly-prone figure of the other. “Actually, uh,” he ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up more, “do either of you have a spare necktie? I forgot mine, but I didn’t realize till I was already here, and I’ve been dodging teachers all morning. It’s been okay so far since I sit at the back for my other classes, but this one…”

Ronan blinked. A tie. Adam needed a tie. He couldn’t believe it, the object he had dreamed of just happened to be what this boy needed. What was going on?

Ronan’s barreling train of thought was stopped by Gansey’s voice saying, “Sorry, I only have the one I’m wearing right now.” He shook his head, showing his empty hands for emphasis.

Ronan hesitated, thinking of the tie at the bottom of his backpack. But he needed that; he needed it so he could find the Magician. What if these dreams where Cabeswater gave him things stopped coming? What if this was the last clue? He couldn’t just be giving away his dream clues just because a boy looked at him with sad puppy eyes. But then again…

_What if Adam is the Magician?_

“And Ronan definitely doesn’t––“

“Wait,” Ronan interrupted, twisting his torso to lean off the desk and reach into his bag. He yanked out the tie (now unknotted) and, sitting up now, held it out to Adam. “Here.”

Two stunned pairs of eyes stared at Ronan and the tie in his hand. After a beat, Adam reanimated, stepping forward to take the tie from Ronan, their hands brushing. Ronan held his face still.

“Thanks,” Adam said, his voice hoarse. He slung the tie around his neck and knotted it. The fabric was a little wrinkled, but, tucked into Adam’s sweater, it worked well enough. “I guess we’re even now.”

Ronan said nothing, his chin jerking down in a minute nod. Adam stood there a second longer, before turning away.

As Adam turned his back to them, Gansey looked between Adam and Ronan, obviously puzzled.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other,” he said slowly.

Ronan shrugged, “He fixed my car last weekend.” To be honest, Ronan was already thinking of other things he might pay Adam back with, how they might be able to keep this back-and-forth going indefinitely.

Gansey’s eyebrows shot up from behind the rim of his glasses. “Fixed, you say? We could use one of those.”

“One of what?”

Gansey smiled, “One of him.”

Ronan’s mouth, however, turned in the opposite direction. “Why? The Pig is fine.”

“Not as a mechanic. I don’t know, I just have this feeling that he’s right for this.”

The bell rang then, and other students began entering the classroom as fourth period started. Throughout the class, Ronan played the game that was quickly becoming a habit: Try Not to Look at Adam Parrish. In reality, though, it was much more like Sneak as Many Looks at Adam Parrish as Possible Without Anyone Noticing. Ronan didn’t want Gansey to think something was up, but he also felt like maybe if he stared at Adam hard enough, he’d be able to piece it all together.

Suddenly, the bell was ringing again, and the room filled with the sound of chair legs scraping the floor. Ronan heard Gansey get out of his desk behind him and watched, in stifled dismay, as he walked right up to Adam, who was packing up his stuff. Ronan refused to watch this particular car crash, fixing his gaze ahead to the blackboard, where Whelk was erasing each letter of today’s lesson. Clean slate.

“Excuse me,” Gansey started. Adam turned around. “Do you know anything about Welsh kings? We’re meeting after school to strategize how to best locate one sleeping king by the name of Glendower. By we, I mean Ronan, our friend Jane, and I.” The other boy just blinked at Gansey. “At Nino’s, you know, the diner down the road a piece? I’m buying.”

“I can buy my own pizza, thanks,” Adam replied. Ronan winced. What reason would Adam Parrish have to hang out with them? And now Gansey had gone and made them look crazy. Adam probably didn’t know anything about Welsh kings, let alone Glendower.

“So…” Gansey fished, “is that a yes or a no?”

Ronan, still facing forward, closed his eyes, bracing for impact. To his surprise, though, he heard Adam say, “Sure, what time?”

Gansey told him 4:00PM, because that was when Jane was available, and offered him a ride, but Adam declined. Ronan only opened his eyes in time to see Adam’s shape go out the door. The tardy bell for fifth period rang.

“Ah, shoot,” Gansey cursed, looking at his wristwatch for secondary confirmation that he was, in fact, late. “Oh well, Mr. Allan will understand.” Mr. Allan was the geography teacher, and he basically worshipped at Gansey’s feet and his actually-competent knowledge of world geography and topography. Gansey turned to Ronan, who hadn’t moved from the desk. “Who do you have now? I can talk to them, and explain that the fault for your tardiness is mine.”

Instead of answering, Ronan said, “Why did you do that?”

Ronan’s head spun; first, Adam might be the Magician of dubious intentions Cabeswater had been warning him about, and now he was going to be spending time with Ronan and his friends? It all felt surreal and somewhat suspicious.

Gansey’s face scrunched in confusion. “It’s like what I said earlier, we need him, Lynch. And anyway, I thought you two were friends?”

Ronan got up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I never said that.” He strode towards the door. “See you later, Dick.”

***

And that’s how Ronan ended up squashed between Gansey and Blue in a booth at the back of Nino’s, waiting for Adam to arrive.

“Wait, so who is this guy?” Blue had demanded when Gansey told her about Adam.

“I don’t know, Jane,” Gansey had replied, “but he’s important to all of this, I can _feel_ it.” Blue had rolled her eyes and ordered their usual pizza, a large half veggie (for Gansey and Blue) and half Hawaiian (for Ronan).

By 4:15PM, they were all into their first slices, Adam had not appeared yet, and Gansey was catching up Blue on his newest ley line theory. At 4:22PM, Adam walked through the door, looking around before spotting them and heading over. Instead of his Aglionby uniform, he was wearing loose jeans, sneakers, and a faded red Coca-Cola t-shirt that hung over his thin, elegant frame. Ronan tried very hard to look uninterested and hostile.

“Sorry, got caught up at work,” Adam mumbled. Seeing Blue, he spoke up, “Hey, I’m Adam Parrish.”

“Blue,” she replied, giving a two-finger salute.

Adam’s expression turned to one of confusion. “I thought your name was Jane?”

In response, Blue elbowed Ronan hard in his bicep. “Ow!” Ronan scowled. “Gansey said it, not me.”

“I know, but I can’t reach him from here, so you’ll have to do.”

Ronan rolled his eyes, but he heard Adam stifle a chuckle, and he almost wished Blue would punch him again.

“So,” Gansey cleared his throat, “about that Welsh king I mentioned…”

Ronan didn’t pay attention to Gansey as they ate. He’d heard all of it before already. Blah blah, ancient slumbering king, blah blah, one all-powerful wish. Ronan didn’t believe that any of the things he wanted might be granted to him by some dead monarch, but he did believe in Gansey. For now, though, Ronan was content to watch Adam’s profile from across the table as the other boy actually listened. He had opted for the Hawaiian pizza, which Gansey and Blue wouldn’t even go near, and Ronan felt a swirl of conflicting emotions that their new member had sided with him in some way, however small. Hawaiian pizza was _Ronan’s_ thing. Was it coincidence? Or a sign?

Ronan tried to determine if there was anything “magical” about Adam. While everything about him was relatively normal (straight teeth, dimples, gangly limbs), there was still, to Ronan, something somewhat otherworldly about him. His nose was slightly crooked, maybe broken when he was younger, and his hands were far too elegant for a teenage boy. He also tended to tilt his head to the left as he listened to Gansey from his spot across the table next to Blue. He was perfectly average, yet extraordinary.

After all of the Glendower talk, Adam spoke, pulling Ronan out of his own head. During the previous conversation, Adam’s questions and comments had mainly been directed to Gansey, but now he turned his head so he faced Ronan and Blue more.

“I’m sorry for being late earlier by the way. I had work, and there was a last-minute customer that came in just as I was leaving. I’m usually very punctual,” he apologized, as if this were a job interview. In some ways it was, trying out for Gansey’s motley crew.

Gansey perked up. “Where do you work? Nothing wrong with earning an honest living.”

As Ronan watched, something flickered across Adam’s face briefly, but he replied, “Boyd’s Auto Shop. I’m a mechanic there.”

“I _knew_ it!” Gansey’s fist punched up into the air. “Didn’t I tell you, Ronan? He’s exactly who we need!” His face lit up like Christmas morning. “So, Adam, what do you think? Are you inclined to help us on this quest?”

Weirdly, Adam’s gaze flitted to Ronan then, who quickly but nonchalantly looked away. “Sure, why not.”

If possible, Gansey looked even more elated, and even Blue let out a delighted whoop, having been charmed by Adam as well. While Ronan kept his expression carefully schooled, he, too, felt excitement building in his chest at the thought of spending more time with Adam. Magician-slash-prophecy or not.

He just hoped his hunch about the dream clues was wrong.


End file.
